


Enough

by headcanonftw



Category: t.A.T.u. (Band)
Genre: AU, Abusive Relationship, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Angst, Drug Abuse, F/F, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-01
Updated: 2008-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-16 08:58:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/537720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/headcanonftw/pseuds/headcanonftw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lena comes home to the exact same thing one too many times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enough

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this with some of the songs' plots in mind, especially "30 Minutes" (and its video), "Stars," and some of the progressive tracks off 'Dangerous and Moving.'

It wouldn’t come off. It was seeping into the carpet, into the furniture, into the walls and floorboards, into the very air. And now the towel was soaked too. Regardless of its maxed capacity, Lena continued scrubbing, but she would rather stare at this pool of blood on the carpet than look up. At least here she knew exactly what she was looking at, exactly what she was dealing with. It would not be the same if she looked up. If she met the other’s eyes, she would find no reason, nothing rational, and everything she knew would seem wrong. She could not handle that, not right now. She had to hold onto what she knew was real. And right now, only the blood was real. She scrubbed in silence, content with her solitary reality, until it was broken, utterly shattered by  _her_. 

“Please say something.” 

Lena’s jaw locked, teeth clenched and heart furious. Tears she thought she would never she would cry again welled in her eyes as a lump gathered in her pale throat.  _No, don’t answer. Don’t give her the power to tell you what to do…_  But the tears were already flowing. Her ivory cheeks shined through the tears, and she closed her eyes for a moment to refocus. She moved the bloody towel absently, trying to give the impression she was still working. Just as the tears began to stop, she felt warm, slightly moist fingers touch her shoulder gently, lovingly, almost the same as what Lena remembered from so long ago, what she yearned for with her very soul. She fought the urge to look up, to glance over her shoulder to look into her face and find that love and trust she had once known. But it wouldn’t be there. That face would be blank, full of artificial, superficial love, no trust, no honesty. She wouldn’t look. The hand squeezed her shoulder softly, thin fingertips gently denting her fragile skin. She pursed her lips, fighting the want to see her. 

“Lena, talk to me.” 

“Yulia…” Lena spoke, her voice broken, exasperated. She didn’t want this to begin again, this cycle they could never break. But she gave in, as she always did. Her sad, tired eyes met Yulia’s, which seemed so big, so awake, so alive. Lena fought herself, entranced by them once again, and it seemed the rest of the world fell away as Yulia's blood-soaked hand touched her face, so warm on Lena’s porcelain cheek. 

“Lena, I’m sorry,” Yulia said, her voice soft and alluring. “I didn’t mean it. I never meant it. I don’t know how it happened. Her palm cupped Lena’s cheek, and Lena could have melted. She wanted so badly to be awake like Yulia, to feel and look young like she did. But she was so different, so alive, compared to Lena. Lena was always straight-faced and serious, where Yulia was always fun, spontaneous, and smiling. Lena pulled away and looked down. 

“I can’t do this now,” she said to the bloody carpet. “Get me a new towel, would you?” She stared absently at her ankles, waiting for Yulia to leave, but she only stood up and looked down at Lena. Her gaze was almost tangible, the warmth and pressure of it on her head and neck. “Please, Yulia…” Lena whispered, almost a plea, but not desperate-sounding enough to actually be one. “Just get the damn towel.” She didn’t have the energy to beg, but she would have if she did. Yulia finally walked away, leaving Lena to her silent despair. She lay down on the carpet, ignoring the blood as it matted her hair, ignoring the young man that lay beside her in an early, eternal sleep. Her cheek pressed against the fibers of the rug, her arms bent and hands lying in front of her face. Her fingers curled strangely and seemed alien to her, the nails like blood-stained claws. 

Why was Yulia taking so long? 

Life hadn’t always been like this. Lena hadn’t always come home to a dead body bleeding on the carpet while Yulia sat next to it, pulling up her tights and hiding a gun while Lena reached instinctively for the towels. Where had it gone so wrong? After they were honest? After they told each other the truth about themselves? Now it was a gimmick, a sales pitch, but it had originally blossomed into even more than their songs could say. They had grown closer and closer until one day…

Where the hell was Yulia? Lena couldn’t take it anymore, her slowness. She sat up straight and looked around the apartment. Nothing moved, no one spoke. Lena lifted herself up, sliding her thin white legs under her body to walk herself across the room. As she drew closer to the bedroom, she could hear quiet, shallow breathing behind an almost closed door. Lena moved automatically to push the door open, but her stomach clenched roughly as her arm reached out. No, she remembered this scenario all too clearly, this same exact thing happening before. Her hand withdrew slightly, fingers recoiling in fear. She didn’t want to see this part. Cleaning up the dead blood, scrubbing the walls, lacquering the wood floors—that she could handle, but this…this was too much. This was torture. 

She heard sniffling behind the door, quiet crying and softly spoken words. Lena tried not to listen, tried to turn and walk away.  _Just grab another towel and get out. Go back to cleaning and leave her alone…_  But she couldn’t bring herself to go. Finally she pushed the door open, slowly, dreading what would be revealed, but her eyes wouldn’t look. They simply stared forward, paralyzed by what she was sure to see. Lena’s eyelids fell, covering her hazel irises, thin ginger eyelashes heavy with leftover tears. She breathed out carefully through her mouth, then reopened her eyes. Her sharp intake of breath coupled with the sight she met made her head swim and her stomach turn. 

Yulia was sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed, knees together but feet spread. A torn piece of cloth—probably from the towel she had gone to fetch for Lena—was wrapped and tied tightly about her upper right arm. Her right hand was clenching into a tight fist, forcing the cerulean lines of her veins to protrude through the skin. Cradled in the fingers of her left hand was a long, thin syringe, the needle poised above her right forearm. Yulia’s short, razor-cut hair blocked her face, the ebony locks concealing from Lena the tears that were running down her face. 

Biting her lip, Lena dropped to her knees and crawled to Yulia. She brushed the hair away to see her face, watching as the eyeliner and mascara flooded her cheeks as they mixed with her tears. Lena’s one hand touched Yulia’s face, tracing the lines of tears and the soft lines of her lips; with the other hand she moved slowly toward the syringe. She gently pried Yulia’s fingers away and clasped the needle tightly, hiding it behind her back. She pulled Yulia's face up by the chin and forced her to meet her eyes. She looked so drained, so tired, the dark irises gleaming and large. Yet behind all the obvious signs of fatigue and loss of livelihood, she saw the usual fire raging, the silent power that made Yulia so enchanting. Lena had to ask, had to know, had to find out…

“Why?”

Yulia looked around silently, her lips pursing and puckering as she considered her answer. Finally her mouth opened and she whispered so softly that Lena had to lean closer to hear. 

“Because I have nothing else left.” 

Lena’s eyebrows knitted as she stared. She didn’t understand. 

“I lived for you, Lena. You. But you don’t love me anymore. I’ve become a bother. A chore. So all I have left is my escape. She eyed her right forearm, where the veins were still taut and ready to accept the drug. 

“ _I_  don’t love  _you_  anymore?” Lena couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You’re the one destroying our lives! You hate to even look at me, except when I’m cleaning up your mess!” Tears found their way to the surface, making her words come out stifled and choked. “You’re the one who stopped love. But I…I never…” She couldn’t finish. Her head hung and she cried, the tears falling onto Yulia's knees. Yulia touched the tears and rubbed them between her fingers, then she pulled Lena’s head back up to face her. Lena’s lip quivered as the tears poured violently down her cheeks to her neck. “Yulia…”

“Shh…” Yulia put a finger to Lena’s petal-soft lips. “I know. I’m sorry.” She pulled the torn shred of towel from around her upper arm and flexed her fingers, letting her once protruding veins relax. Then she looked back into Lena’s hazel eyes, still flowing with tears. “Forgive me, Lena. Forgive me and love me again.” He lips curled into a small, pleading smile. Lena suddenly found them enchanting, sumptuous…utterly irresistible. 

“I never stopped loving you, Yulia.” Her tears were slowing. 

Yulia’s head tilted and inched closer to Lena’s. Lena closed the gap and their lips met, petal to petal, and Lena’s heart soared, though her stomach churned. 

It was happening again. She’d let it all start over. 

Lena pulled away abruptly. She bit her lip hard, as if making herself bleed might expel the repulsion from her. God, how good it had felt to have her back, to be kissing her again like nothing had ever happened. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t just kiss her and pretend everything was okay. It wasn’t right. 

Yulia looked at Lena quizzically and asked, “What’s wrong?” 

Lena stood and looked at her fingers. “I…I can’t do this.” She felt her stomach churn again and she knew she was going to be sick. She walked quickly out of the room and found the bathroom. As she fell to her knees before the toilet, she saw Yulia walk through the doorway. Lena retched violently at the sight of her. God! there was so much emotion attached to that face. She felt Yulia’s soft singers pull her long hair from around her face as she vomited, but her touch only made it worse. 

Tired and weak, Lena rested her head on her forearms on the bowl. The smell was overpowering, but she couldn’t move. She felt Yulia’s fingers playing with her curls, combing it with her hands and making tiny braids. Lena sighed, and could have laughed at the lunacy of it—vomiting then having her hair done by her least favorite person. 

“Why do you do this to yourself, Lena?” Yulia asked as she twisted a single lock into and out of a bun. 

“What have I done to myself, pray tell?” Lena snarled weakly, her voice echoing menacingly in the cavernous toilet bowl. 

“You make us doubt one another,” she answered simply, like she was reciting lines. “You caused all this. He didn’t have to be here, you brought him. I don’t have to shoot up, you make me. It all comes back to you.” Her voice was soft and clear, like this was common knowledge she was stating. 

Lena was stunned. “I didn’t bring him here. I don’t even know him.” 

“Yes you do!” Yulia snapped, suddenly grabbing Lena’s hair and pulling her head up to meet her eyes. “Remember Lena? Remember the carousel? Remember the bomb? Remember your scar?” 

Lena glared back and retorted, “It’s not my fault you’re paranoid! You got something in your head, then you went and blew up an amusement park! You killed people then too, and who had to clean up after you? Me! Even back then I was cleaning up  _your_  mess!” 

“My mess?!  _My mess?!_  You were the one making out with someone else! A man, no less!” 

“You’re insane! I was just riding the damn carousel!” 

“You were practically fucking on that horse!”

“Yulia, think about it. You  _know_  me! When have I ever done something that…adventurous?” Her throat stuck as she said it. 

“Just because  _we_  never—”

“Stop it! Stop it, stop it, stop it!” Lena couldn’t take anymore. “You’re making this up, stop! Stop!”  

Yulia rolled her eyes angrily as Lena stood and nearly ran from the bathroom. “That’s right, Lena, just walk away. Go back to your mopping and scrubbing, erase me with your bleach and cleansers; but I’ll always be here, Lena, I’ll always live here, you can’t erase me! And I won’t stop making you clean!” She deliberately knocked a flower vase to the ground. “You’ll clean forever, Lena, you’ll clean forever until you start seeing me again!” 

She followed Lena down the hallway as she spoke until Lena entered the bedroom, where they both stopped. Lena was looking at the floor and tugging at her hair, while Yulia stood in the doorway and yelled at her. After she received no response, she rushed in, grabbed Lena by the hair, and forced her to look up at her. 

“Look at me God dammit!” 

Lena squirmed and twisted until she broke away from Yulia’s grasp. “Just get away, you psychopath!” she cried. “I hate you! I wish I never fucking met you!” 

“I thought you never stopped loving me? What happened to that, Lena, huh? You forget already?”

“I didn’t! I never stopped loving you! But I  _have_  started hating you!” 

“That’s not possible. You can’t have it both ways, Lena!” 

“It is…!” She sank to the floor, trying to catch her breath after crying and screaming, holding her shoulders and shivering, like she was cold. “I still love you with all my heart…but my resentment for you has become hate. I hate what you put me through. I hate the things you do. But I love you, Yulia. I know that underneath it all is the woman I fell in love with.” 

She rested her head on her knees. “I guess I’m just waiting to see her again. I don’t want this maniac I’m sleeping beside now. I want my Yulia back.” 

Silence filled the room thickly and hung in the air like humidity. Yulia stood, staring at the floor and leaning against a wall; Lena stayed sitting in a ball on the floor. Finally, Lena’s shuffling cut through the eerie quiet as she stood up and walked into the kitchen. She found some cleanser and another few towels, and returned to where the dead man lay, still staining the carpet. She fell to her knees to clean and looked into the man’s face for the first time. Her heart nearly stopped. 

“Oh my God…” 

Yulia stumbled into the room as Lena made the connection. 

“This…this is the man you saw me with at the carnival. The one you though I was seeing.” She looked up and caught Yulia’s cold, uninterested stare. “This is why you made that bomb; you thought I was cheating on you.” Lena fingered her shoulder, where a long, thin scar began before continuing down her back. A piece of metal from the carousel had sliced her there when the bomb went off, and the surgeons who had stitched her up were afraid Lena might had been paralyzed. But she’d gotten lucky—half-an-inch lucky. 

“I didn’t  _think_  you were seeing him,” Yulia countered bluntly, “I  _knew_  you were seeing him. I saw you together that morning, when he picked you up, and when I followed you, I saw you kiss.” 

Lena’s eyes shut tightly as she squeezed out a single, shining tear. This was it? This was what had destroyed them? “ _He_  kissed me once, because he thought I was single, but I told him no. After that, nothing else happened.” 

“Well, what about the carousel, then? You two looked pretty close there! Or was  _that_  when you told him ‘no’?” 

“Nothing happened on the damn carousel! We weren’t even on the same horse!” 

“ _Liar_!”

“Don’t call me a liar! You’re the liar here, Yulia!” tears were streaming freely now, making her eyes red and puffy. “You tell me you’re angry and need some air, but then you’re just gone?! And where?—out with some guy, who you shoot when he doesn’t want to stop after you so openly invited him! There again, I came to your rescue! And how did you repay me? By taking me to some vile pervert club so you could get your rocks off among the invalids of society!” Her final words were sharp and fired from her mouth like venom. “There was something about you that I love once, but whatever it was has long since died and been replaced by…by…” She waved her hands, trying to come up with the correct word, but she gave up, and settled for a defeated, “this.” 

Lena reached into their shared closet and removed a small travel bag. She then proceeded to wrench open drawers and shove their contents into the bag. 

“Oh, now what, you’re leaving?” Yulia asked mockingly, standing ominously near Lena as she packed. “You’re just gonna up and go, at this time of night, and in this weather? No, not safe, controlled, mature Lena! There was no planning, no forethought!” As it became apparent that Lena was not listening to her, Yulia became enraged and started throwing clothes hanging in the closet at Lena as she stuffed the case. “Fine then! Just leave! Go! Go, go, get out,  _go!_ ” 

“Fine!” Lena screeched, her pale cheeks red with fury, her freckles pronounced against the crimson. “Fine, I’m going! I hate you, I hate you!” She grabbed the bag, as yet unzipped, and marched down the hall and to the front door. Yulia was still following, screaming and throwing anything she could reach—picture frames, vases, cups. 

The front door burst open and the wild blizzard air poured in, freezing them both and nearly sweeping Lena from her feet. But she barely noticed and pressed on, fuelled by her desperation to leave the house and Yulia. Tears froze on her cheeks and she quickly could not feel her feet and bare legs. She kept moving though, not caring where she ended up, if anywhere, as long as she was away from Yulia. 

Hours later, a mutual friend would find Lena face down in the snow, not twelve feet from the door, and the house empty. 


End file.
